Sixty-year-old John Patterson looked out into the warm, sun soaked September day from his large work shed, a veritable playground for any man or boy, as the axes and wrenches, and boxes of bolts and welders’ masks and even an Arctic Cat tread, were hauled to the trailer outside. Everything inside and out was to be auctioned that day, including piles of scrap metal, six tractors on the laneway behind the house, a shiny black top 1963 Ford Galaxy 500 convertible and a scarred upright black piano that had seen much better days. More than 1,000 people sifted through the piles and kicked tires.

The auction, like the ‘for sale’ sign at the end of the Maple tree lined lane, marks the end of an era. The postcard-perfect Maple Nook Farms, first owned by the Irish Pattersons who fled the potato famine in 1837, has fallen on the hardest of times. The toughest of decisions weighs on the shoulders of John Patterson, a sixth generation crop farmer, who can tell you stories from his great-great-grandfather’s record book in the 1860s of heading off in the morning with a couple of calves and a pig, selling them down at the Moscow train station, then buying cheese and returning home with $1.39.

"We farmed too hard, too long," said Patterson, of the decision to sell everything, including the yellow-painted farmhouse with its white wrap-around porch. It was a decision that took three years since Patterson hit his emotional bottom and they realized he couldn’t keep the farm going any longer. The jobs were piling up, too many tractors needed fixing, the crop farmers’ recurring question; ‘Will we earn enough this year to pay the bills?" had been a part of the adrenalin rush for decades. But now the emotional bank account was empty. "Did I lose my tenacity and bull-headedness? I lost something that made you put things aside and gave you that drive to go."

In the best year, he and wife Diane, earned $19,000 on the 300-acre farm, northwest of Kingston and just west of the oddly named village of Moscow. But where would they go?

"I have no idea," said Patterson.

It’s painful even for a stranger to hear of family breakdown. They have three grown children and every farmer from Kingston to Campbellford, it would seem, knows the family by name.

Said a neighbour who dropped in at the auction with a camera to record the memory: "This family is so well respected. We’re just gob-smacked. It’s so sad."

He smiled and you could guess in his mind’s eye, he caught a glimpse of better times. "I was driving a tractor at 9. Dad let me drive the seed drill at 10. That was prestigious because you had to plant straight."

The man loves to farm. "There isn’t any better way to live in my books. It’s the greatest place to bring up kids. I love the tension and the pressure. I’ve said for years that I was addicted to farming. In winter I was like a drunk who had to go to the liquor store."

He got his high from buying seed and fertilizer and getting the crop in the ground and watching that first growth. He had to wait for harvest for the next high.

"The biggest disappointment of my life is my separation with my wife," he said, adding rhetorically, "How does anyone handle that?"

Looking back he sees the farm consumed both of them. They never made time for themselves. They thought about plans but then harvest was coming, or that something else just pushed any thoughts of plans off the table. "She was the best partner anyone could wish for," he said. But there was always time for repairs.

Patterson looked out at the crowd in front of the shed. Someone just bought a pile of wrenches. But it wasn’t clear if Patterson was looking at the crowd, or whether his thoughts carried him farther away.

"The best advice I have is that the husband and wife need to take time (without the kids) and do something together," he said. "Take time for each other and don’t go to a farm show and a dairy barn on the way. Speak up and say ‘this is what I want to do.’ Speak it to each other."

He also feels he has disappointed his grandfather. "This is the end of these family roots. That hurts."

A chapter closes on the never-ending hours and days of chores and repairs. Patterson, a man with large calloused working hands, isn’t so sure he is ready to let go. But he concedes that a new chapter also begins, and this one must be about taking time for people and for the man others thought was so tough. Time now to find out who is John? There is sadness here but optimism too. Perhaps the blue sky and warmth of this day and the handshakes and smiles from friends confirm that this is the time to put the tools down and move on, and that grandfather is looking down and approves.